Somewhere Only We Know
by Merridews
Summary: Peter and Alice are bored of their uneventful lives in London.  With the help of the Lost Boys, they journey to a mysterious island called "Neverland", where adventure awaits them at every turn.
1. Peter

**Note: **As a longtime fan of _Peter Pan_ and _Alice in Wonderland_, I decided to write a fic that combines the protagonists of both stories. I'm quite aware that J.M. Barrie has written a somewhat origin story of Peter Pan, involving him being raised by fairies when he was just an infant. However, I wanted to recreate Neverland through my own viewpoint, that uses both Peter and Alice. Therefore, if you're searching for something that stays loyal to Barrie's and Carroll's works, then I suggest you don't read this. And just to be clear, this fic does not involve Wendy. I've completely removed her from canon for the purposes of my story.

On a last note, the versions I'll be sticking most true to are the Disney versions.

**Warning:** This story is unbeta'ed, and written rather quickly. Hopefully it will suffice, and if not, I will probably edit it further.

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><p>Chapter I |<strong> Peter<strong>

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><p>Alice lay on top of a roof; her blonde hair that was once pulled into a tight bun, courtesy of her sister, now entangled loose in a mess. The white pinafore overtop that hung around her blue dress was covered with black soot from the countless hours of playing outside. The baker of the shop she was on top of opened the window, causing the aroma of bread to mix with the unpleasant smell of polluted smoke rising from the chimneys. Removing the hand previously covering her left eye, Alice pinched her nose.<p>

For the last few hours, she had been playing hide-and-seek, a game she often admitted at being quite good at. However, due to the significant lack of players, the game was continuous, dull, and because the weather changed drastically since the morning, very cold. Shivering slightly, Alice longed for a sweater. She contemplated on leaving her hiding place and returning to her home, but overruled the idea when the thought of losing crossed her mind. No, Alice never lost. Not at hide-and-seek.

Her hands moved from covering her face to her arms, rubbing against them to produce warmth. She sighed, hoping Hamish would quit searching for her. The red-haired boy was relentless, and despite the sky darkening, she doubted he had given up. Sometimes Alice wished for more friends, better friends. Anyone, even the orphans her mother warned her about, would be much better company than Hamish.

It wasn't that Hamish was a bad person. He was just insufferable, monotonous, and boring. His nose was far too big for his face, his eyes much too close together, and his red hair was always perfectly styled; not one strand out of place. But the characteristic that bothered Alice most was not his snooty personality, nor his nasal voice, but his frown. Not once had Alice seen a trace of a smile etched on the boy's face. How a child could look so unhappy all the time was beyond her.

She crinkled her nose at the thought of him. Their families had already arranged them to be married once she reached eighteen, a moment she would undoubtedly be dreading for the five years leading up to that event.

Lost in thought, the sound of running feet surpassed her for a split moment. As the shoe clacking grew louder, Alice sat up and turned towards the direction of the noise. She thought she heard the faint sound of a pan flute. Then what seemed out of nowhere, she spied a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy running towards her roof. The flute she had heard was in his mouth, and his hands were occupied with bags of what she could only assume was food.

"Hello!" Alice called unthinking. But the boy didn't seem to hear her or notice her, or if he did, he didn't show any signs of acknowledgment. Instead, he continued running, jumping from roof to roof. Alice couldn't help but stare in awe. If only she had the ability, and courage, to perform such acrobatics. With a final leap, the boy fell onto Alice's roof, pulling the flute from his mouth and panting wildly.

With flaming orange hair and bright blue eyes, he flashed her a crooked smile before putting his bags down on the roof and taking a seat only a few feet away from her.

"Hello?" Alice asked, curiosity overwhelming her.

She had never seen the boy before, but from what she noticed, he looked poor and probably of a lower class. His clothing looked more like rags than anything else, and his hair was ruffled and dirty; much unlike Hamish's despite the similar color.

"Hi," The boy replied, brushing the dust off his shirt. Though because of the amount of grime clinging to his clothing, the action was useless.

"Why, I don't recall ever seeing you before. Do you mind telling me who you are?" She wondered, casually inching closer to the boy. Alice knew well her mother would not approve of her talking to a stranger, but considering she had been to Wonderland and met a plethora of mad people there, conversing with a child her age didn't seem all too bad.

"Peter," The boy responded. He rolled his eyes as if it was Alice's fault to ask and not know beforehand.

"My name's Alice," Alice introduced, but couldn't help feeling slightly self-conscious and slightly annoyed at the way Peter gazed at her. It was a blank stare that emitted his lack of desire to know anything about her.

Peter took out a soot-covered hand from his pant pocket, spat on it, and then extended it as a greeting.

Repulsed, Alice took the hand since it was the proper thing to do, and cringed at the feeling of saliva mixed with sweat and dirt.

Satisfied, the boy ended the gesture, rubbing his hand on the pant leg, and saluted her with his left hand extending from his forehead.

"Goodbye, Alice," He waved, giving a toothy grin. Slinging the messenger bag over his shoulder and holding the other bag in his hand, Peter ran towards the edge of the roof, put his free hand on the gutter and swung into a nearby window.

Alice had to blink twice to make sure she wasn't dreaming. But the traces of saliva still dripping down her fingertips proved a point all on its own.

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><p>A couple of weeks passed and Alice grew more tiresome with the boring life she lived. Every day she would go to the library where her sister would tutor her on English and arithmetic. Then, she would head off to the kitchen to grab a snack and meet Hamish on her way out the doors. He would undoubtedly follow her, because she assumed he had no other friends (not that she would admit he was one of hers in the first place), and stare at her judgingly as she ate her crackers whilst sauntering down the cobbled streets.<p>

"Hamish?" Alice asked as they walked. "Do you think a place like Wonderland exists? Not actual Wonderland, but a different one. Do you think there could be many Wonderlands yet to be discovered? With strange queens and—"

"No."

Every time she met Hamish, Alice would have higher expectations, hoping he grew an open mind overnight. But the truth was that he had no imagination whatsoever and resembled an adult in a child's body.

"Do you think there's a possibility that humans could fly? A place where we could just jump out the windows and the air would carry us?"

"No."

"What about a place with mermaids and fairies? Oh, I've always wanted to hold a fairy, but Lorina always tells me they don't exist and that I need to get my head out of the clouds. I can't imagine why though. Dreaming is so wonderful."

"No."

Even when "no" was not an appropriate answer, Hamish would use it anyway, at least when talking to Alice. She didn't understand why the boy even bothered to be around her if he seemed so miserable and bored in her company.

"Do you think Lorina will make us tea today? I do love tea, especially with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare. Oh, and the Dormouse too."

"Alice."

The change in vocabulary confused Alice for a second, as though it was a figment of her imagination.

"I don't care about Wonderland. Or whatever you've been pretending about," He continued.

"Well, what do _you_ want to talk about Hamish, if you can think of _so_ many more interesting topics?" Alice asked. She couldn't help the tinge of venom that bled into her voice. Thankfully, it went unnoticed.

"Nothing, really. I was thinking we should play hide-and-seek again like we did a long time ago. Though I think you should do the seeking this time. I'm afraid you might get lost again if you hide."

Alice gritted her teeth at the jab. "I did not get lost. You're just very bad at hide-and-seek."

"If you really think so, then maybe we should play right now and see how long it takes you to find me."

There was a new determination in Hamish's voice that had escaped Alice's ears in the past twelve years that she had known him. And although there was no excitement laced in his tone, there was an upbeat shift that seemed suspiciously out of character.

"Alright, I'll count to ten, and you hide."

"Try not to take too long. Your sister Lorina will grow worried if I'm not around."

1…

Alice could hear leaves rustling as Hamish stepped on each. She imagined him tripping over a stick and falling flat on his face in mud. Giggling to herself, she continued counting.

2…

3…

4…

5…

6…

7…

The footsteps were unheard now, but she could hear the faint sound of a door opening. Alice could picture him, hiding behind a curtain in the corridor, cackling to himself in his nasal voice at the ingenious hiding place.

8…

9…

10…

Alice peered through her hands before returning them to her pockets. She strolled towards the household but paused only a few inches from the door.

"If I look for him now, I'll be left to entertain him for the rest of the evening," Alice reasoned to herself.

Despite hating to lose, Alice decided it was better than to waste her entire afternoon with Hamish following her around like a tail. After all, she had better things to do than busy him with conversations about maths and sciences.

Walking down the steps leading to her home, she reentered London. Horse carriages were drawn out of the way as she wandered down the street, arms folded across her chest. The thing about London was that Alice knew every corner, every alley, every street, and every household. There was nowhere new to adventure to, and Alice seldom repeated adventures.

The only thing she didn't quite know about London was the boy jumping over the roofs. Not once had she seen him again while on her daily walks. Not once had she seen a glimpse of messy red hair or the sound of shoes and panpipes.

"I wonder," She thought for a moment as she stopped by the bakery shop. Aimlessly at first, she climbed the ladder leading to the roof. The biting sensation of cool wind on her ears and nose was almost enough to send her back down. But a new tenacious fire lit itself inside Alice, and she knew she needed to keep going. The chances of finding what she was looking for were slim. And she knew it the back of her mind that it was ridiculous to even believe there was anything awaiting her on the roof, practically impossible.

_No, impassible. Nothing's impossible._

The wintry air brushed against her back, but Alice ignored it. Her eyes wandered over at the window the mysterious boy had jumped into. Peter. Peter with the untidy tomato hair and the freckles that crossed his nose, Peter with the tattered clothing and the pan flute, Peter with the bright smile that seemed to turn her stomach over uncomfortably.

Peter Pan.

Climbing over to the window, she placed one foot on the ledge before shifting her weight completely over, making sure not to look down as she did so.

Fortunately, there was a latch on the outside of the window, prompting Alice to fiddle around with it. Unluckily, the window was frozen shut and wouldn't budge despite hearing the _clicks _on the lock. As a second option, she bumped against the glass, attempting to push herself into the room forcefully. But that didn't quite work out either.

"Peter," She whispered as though he could hear her.

With a grieving sense of disappointment, she climbed back over to the ladder, holding her breath as she did so. With a swift swing, her hands gripped the handlebars and propelled herself up to the rooftop.

Sitting on the ledge of the building, Alice let her legs swing freely into the open, imagining the feeling of flight and the wind carrying her up and up for as long as she liked. She imagined flying with Hamish, watching him gasp and pant in the air, telling her to wait up. But Alice wouldn't wait. Not for Hamish. The more she ignored him, the more he seemed to be sinking back down to the ground. The distance between them soon grew farther and farther apart as she flew higher, until he was just a small dot in the vast universe.

"Alice."

She expected it to be Hamish's voice, but it wasn't. Looking down, she noticed the dot that represented her friend grow bigger, heading towards her and growing more recognizable. Then, the image of her monotonous companion was altered into a familiar boy with a crooked smile. He soared into the sky, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I'll race you," He declared bravely, speeding up to Alice.

"Though I hardly think you'll win," She replied, flashing her own grin.

Without another word, the boy zoomed off ahead of her, leaving Alice to float by herself.

"Cheater!" She called after him.

The vision blurred and the sounds of London and the smell of polluted air fizzled out her dream for good.

With a newfound purpose, Alice brought her legs back up and lay down on the roof, closing her eyes. She would wait for the memorable sound of panpipes before opening them again. When the time came, she'd look over to see Peter, who'd wave and salute to her like he did the weeks before. He'd unlatch the window of the adjacent building, the window that was impossible –_impassible_- to open. She'd walk over to him, a bright smile on her face and they'd have a mutual understanding. He'd outstretch his saliva-covered hand, which she would gladly accept with less revulsion, and they would climb into the dark window together, embarking on a new adventure. She would leave the boring life she lived, never seeing Hamish again. Never seeing Lorina again. Never seeing London again. Together, she and Peter would discover new Wonderlands, magical places with mermaids and fairies and tea parties, and places where they'd be able to fly. They would never grow old and she'd never be Hamish's bride. Or if they did have to grow up, they'd grow up together, taking their children on adventures too, and never confining them in London.

Alice would see Peter again, not because she wanted to, but because she needed to.


	2. The Lost Boys

**A/N: **I'm sorry this update took so long. I've had it in the drafts for a few months already, but couldn't refine it to my liking. This chapter was inspired by the mermaid scene with Peter and Wendy. And yes, I know, Peter's kind of mean in this chapter, but he's a boy; he's immature, and doesn't realize how wrong his actions are. There'll be some fluff next chapter though!

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><p>Chapter II | <strong>The Lost Boys<strong>

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><p>The sky faded from a violet red to a dark blue, and house lights dimmed to a soft yellow glow. On the horizon, dark storm clouds circled, traveling nearer to the heart of London. The cypresses swayed violently with a strong gust of wind.<p>

Down below, there was a clacking of metal against metal—a key being inserted into its rusty lock. The bakery shop was closing now, and the last few wisps of smoke passed through the chimney. Ten o'clock, Alice noted. As if to prove a point, Big Ben's loud chime struck the hour, echoing within the city.

Yawning, Alice positioned herself comfortably against the ledge. Her head rolled back, touching the cold metal and the tiny hairs on her neck stood in bitter protest. Her hands clasped themselves in her lap and she laid still, eyelids falling heavy. Sleep dawned on her, but she forced herself to remain attentive. Quietly, she murmured a familiar lullaby.

_Cats and rabbits_

_Would reside in fancy little houses_

_And be dressed in shoes and hats and trousers_

_In a world of my own_

Snap.

The single beat, the single crushing of a stick was enough to send Alice forwards in anticipation. Her eyes were half-lidded when she collided against another person; crashing back onto the ground. Waves of pain surged to her forehead and her nerves felt as if they were lit on fire.

With her vision blurring and struggling to focus, she at first could only make out the silhouette of a boy wearing rags. Slowly, the black outline advanced towards her, crawling faster with eagerness and curiosity.

"Who're you?"

It was an unfamiliar voice; young and high-pitched.

His nose pressed against her nose and his blonde hair feathered her face lightly, tickling her skin. The intimacy was foreign and strange for never in her life had someone gotten so close to her. It was impolite, yet a warming sensation flushed through her face. Alice shifted uncomfortably, unaccustomed to such contact. She scrambled backwards, distancing herself as much as possible until she was dangerously leaning towards the ledge. Without meaning to, her hand grabbed the empty air and she fell backwards—

"Ah!" She cried, arms waving in circles as she struggled to regain her balance. The wind pushed at her body, blowing at her hair. Her head tilted downwards to the streets, and her body began to shift in the same direction.

—A callused hand gripped onto her arm and she was pulled back onto the roof. Her breathing was unregulated and coughs spurted from the back of her throat. The zero gravity feeling in her stomach subsided but the rush woke her from her lethargic state.

"That's a stupid thing t' do," The boy remarked, helping Alice stand up. She was only slightly shorter than him, and they looked about the same age.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have startled me so much," Alice retorted, brushing some soot off her dress. His hand left a dirt print on her arm, leaving her to scrub away at the spot until it disappeared.

"Name's Slightly," The boy introduced. "Pleased to meet 'ya."

Her eyes narrowed. Slightly's clothes were similar to Peter's, with the blackened pants, the stained white fabric of his shirt, the poorly fit jacket, and the tie loosely wrapped around his neck. There was a rip in the sleeve that stretched from his wrist to his elbow, and the heels of his shoes were worn-down.

As if to parallel her critical expression, Slightly eyed her suspiciously, scrutinizing every detail. She could see the contempt in his face as he noticed the cleanliness of her blue dress, the pure white pinafore overtop, and the matching socks. Every aspect about her screamed supercilious and arrogant.

"You're one of them upper-class girls, aren't 'ya," Slightly deadpanned.

"Well," Alice stammered. She was unsure of how to respond, expecting such a statement to be said with more respect than dislike.

"Don't you got a house?" Slightly asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, but I'm waiting for someone here and they've yet to show up."

"Who 'ya waiting for? There aren't lots of kids around at night, only got orphans that sneak out… like myself. _We don't got houses_."

"Well, I'm waiting for a boy I saw weeks ago. His name is Peter," Alice explained. She ignored the belligerency in his last statement. After all, it wasn't _her_ fault.

Slightly's expression seemed to soften. His warm brown eyes no longer held the original malice and envy. Instead, his eyebrows knit together in confusion as he pieced the puzzle together. "Peter? He's never mentioned you before."

The boy's hand ruffled his already disheveled dirty hair, prompting Alice to wonder when the last time he took a bath was. Though almost immediately as the condescending thoughts surfaced, she bade them away for fear she would only confirm Slightly's impression of the upper-class.

"Well, he might not remember me, but I certainly remember him. If you do know where he is, I'd like for you to take me to see him."

Slightly shook his head rapidly. "I can't. 'Ya see, Peter's not like us other orphans. He escaped, and I reckon Jim's still looking for him. And if Jim gets a hold on Peter, no one knows what he'll do… probably beat him to death."

"That's awful!" Alice frowned. "But where does Peter stay if he's not in the orphanage?"

"I can't tell you that. Peter's already trusted me with his life, lettin' me know where he's staying. Ya know he only tells a handful of us orphans? The ones he can really trust. Probably 'cause most of 'em'd tattle him out for money or 'special treatment' from Jim. Come to mention it, none of the girl orphans know where Peter is; I think Peter says they're 'untrustworthy wenches'. How do I know 'ya not a rat?"

Alice stomped her foot with impatience. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at Slightly, similar to what her mother would occasionally do to her father.

"I am a Kingsley, Alice Kingsley," Alice exclaimed with pride. "I know nothing of Jim, and I swear it on my life."

Slightly sighed and rubbed his face in annoyance.

"Okay, I'll take 'ya to see Peter, but he better remember you. And if he doesn't, then I'll… cut yer hand off. We got a deal?"

"What?" Alice shouted, horrified at the proclamation.

"If we don't got a deal, then you can try to find Peter yourself," Slightly confirmed. "And better trust me, you won't ever find him without my help."

"N-no, I… please take me to him," Alice said quietly, staring at her hands and trying to picture herself without them. Which one would she sacrifice?

Shuddering at the mental image and the even thought of it, Alice watched Slightly grab the handles of the ladder and move swiftly down to the ground, as if he'd done it numerous times before. Following his lead, Alice took a deep breath and shifted her feet ungracefully on the first rung and climbed downwards. The boy was waiting for her at the bottom, his arms crossed over his chest in impatience.

"Took 'ya long enough," He huffed, walking to a dark alleyway, not looking back to see if she followed.

Something small and fuzzy scampered past Alice's right foot, causing her to jump up and run after Slightly, clinging onto his arm. He shrugged her off quickly. Out of distaste or discomfort, Alice did not know.

The alley was long and narrow, stretching forever. When they turned the corner, Slightly ran to a tattered door, mounted with wooden planks.

"Password?"

The voice came from somewhere on the other side, causing Alice to step forward and examine the door closely. She found a small hole in the plank and pressed her face to it. Everything on the other side was black. A firm hand gripped onto her shoulder and pushed her back. Frowning, Alice watched as Slightly got closer to the door and whispered:

"Neverland."

The door opened slowly and the two walked through it as it closed behind them. The room was dark and Alice could see nothing on either side of her. At the end of the path, the dim light of a candle radiated, illuminating a small corner. She found Slightly's arm again, and tightened her grip. Surprisingly, he let her. They walked in silence, the only noise being the clacking of their shoes.

"Stop shaking, will 'ya?" Slightly finally said.

"Sorry," Alice apologized, trying desperately to steady her breathing.

As they moved closer, Alice could hear the sound of instruments and loud cheering. There was laughter and shouting and the darkness faded away. Step after step, she entered the lighted room and saw a large group of boys.

"Well, we're here. You can let go of my arm now."

Alice ignored Slightly's comment, eyes widening as she took in the scenery. She had never seen so many children, _boys_, in her life. The only one she knew was Hamish, and he hardly counted. Mesmerized by the jovial atmosphere, she longed to take part in it. Some of the boys were fighting with makeshift swords; some were playing music from pipes and dancing, and some were surrounding the large table, eating food. Up until then, Alice forgot about her hunger, but was discontentedly reminded by the twisting of her stomach. She dropped her hold on Slightly's arm and asked a passing boy if he could spare a cinnamon bun, which he gave her reluctantly.

"Slightly!" There was a moment of hesitation. "Who's the girl?"

Alice's ears perked up and she listened attentively as a shorter, smaller brunette boy approached them.

"She wants to see Peter," Slightly shrugged.

"But Slightly, we don't just let anyone talk to Peter. And Peter's never said anything about a… girl," the boy continued, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

"Stop worryin' Binky. Besides, if she's lying, we get to cut off her hands," Slightly said, his smile widening at the last bit.

"Alright, but I get to cut off the left one," Binky stated, the frown curving into a smirk.

"Nu-uh, I'm cuttin' off the left hand. Peter'll probably want the right, but you can watch," Slightly said.

"You told me one hand!" Alice protested. The two boys turned their attention to her for a split moment before going back into their conversation, not bothering to consider her valid point.

Alice sighed and tried her best to ignore their deliberation over her limbs; after all, Peter would remember her. She was sure of it. Her hand grabbed Slightly's wrist and she pulled them through the crowd to the boys playing music, where she thought she saw a red tuft of hair.

After pushing through the boys, despite their complaints at her shoving, she stopped all of a sudden and stood still in shock. For the first time in the last four weeks, Alice's heart raced, adrenaline pumping through her veins. The remains of her cinnamon bun dropped onto the wooden floor, though she was too captivated by the red-haired boy, dancing and playing his panpipes, to care anymore. When he finally turned around, his eyes locked onto hers and the instrument joined the bun, landing on the ground with a resonant _clang_.

Instead of a smile like Alice expected, Peter seemed _annoyed_.

"A girl!" Peter exclaimed.

The laughter and chatter died out in mere seconds after Peter's revelation. Whispers passed through the crowds as they all stared to observe their leader, walking closer to the only girl in the room.

"Wench!" A particularly bold boy shouted.

"She claims she knows you, Peter. Says she's been waitin' to see you," Slightly responded, shaking off Alice's grasp under Peter's heated glare. "If you don't wanna talk to her, we can cut off her hands and send her to the streets."

"No," Peter said, rolling his eyes but patted Slightly on the back nonetheless. "Good suggestion, though."

Peter focused on Alice, eying her up and down before turning away. "Get her out of here."

"Yessir," Slightly said immediately.

"No," Alice interjected, her hands trembling with nervousness. "No. I waited out all night to see you and I'm not going back now!"

Peter faced her again, raising an eyebrow. "Slightly made a mistake, girls aren't allowed. Sorry Alice."

Alice stomped her foot. "Well I don't see why not. After all, we're all kids; it shouldn't matter if I'm a girl. Why aren't girls allowed, Peter? I would so much like to be a part of this."

"Girls got cooties, that's why!" Another boy interrupted, and in an act of objection, he threw a tomato at Alice. It landed with a splat on her clothes, red tainting the blue color.

Before Alice got the chance to reprimand him, his disruption caused a revolt, and boys from her left and right hurled chunks of bread, rotten fruit, and miscellaneous food items in her direction. She covered her face with her hands and sank down to the floor. She could feel the tomato juice running down her skin, and the food pieces clinging to her hair.

"Stop!" Alice cried out, though her pleas were ignored.

She brushed the particles from her face and looked at Peter who was too busy laughing to be bothered with her. Slightly too was participating in the chaos, not missing a chance to show off his throwing abilities. He hurled a plum at her feet, giving her white socks a purple hue.

"Stop!" She shouted again.

Her protests only encouraged the boys to fire more, harder, and faster.

"Go back home!" One boy yelled.

In that moment, she decided, spending a life with Hamish would be better than this discrimination and poor behavior. These boys were ruthless, barbaric; probably sons of the Queen of Hearts herself.

With fingers clenched into a tight fist, Alice rose in defiance. A peach was thrown at her, exploding onto her face. She ignored the juice sliding down her chin and glared dangerously at her bullies. She marched over to Peter and tapped her foot, waiting, until his laughter diminished.

"Peter," She said angrily. "I was completely wrong about you. I hate you and I never want to see you or any of your friends again." And on impromptu, added, "I'll tell Jim too! I'll tell him where you are, where you _all _are!"

Huffing, she walked away from the group, exiting the once auspicious setting.

The now-heavy rain washed away the sticky fruit from her clothing and skin as she headed down the winding passageway towards her house. Tears were sliding down her cheekbones, and she was weezing and coughing. Her name was being called over and over again, but she didn't look back. Instead she walked faster, his voice reverberating throughout the cold night.


End file.
